Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

on stands that helped them hold up umbrellas or push baby carriages. Cayla had decorated everything in pastels, mostly pinks and blues. A large flat-screen television took pride of place across from a baby blue sectional sofa.
    The fight was over. Or at least Tony seemed to think so. He hurdled the back of the sofa and plopped down in front of the set. “We gonna eat out here? I think the game’s coming on.”
    “You can eat out here by your damn self.” Cayla motioned for Will to follow her, telling him, “Just so you know next time, I prefer it’s just me and you.”
    Will grunted as he trailed her into the kitchen. The house was choppy, which was strange for a new build. The wall bisecting the kitchen and family room looked taped into place. The saloon doors in the middle weren’t even on the same plane. At least an inch separated the top edges, like blocks in a game of Tetris.
    “We can eat in here.” Cayla held open one of the saloon doors.
    Will glanced around the kitchen, which was small and crowded but smelled so good he felt his stomach start to weep. Even the stench of a cigarette burning in the ashtray couldn’t hide thedelicious aroma of fried chicken, biscuits, and some kind of sweet cobbler.
    “You hungry?”
    Will nodded. His mouth was too filled with drool to answer. Sara could do a lot of things, but she could not cook to save her life.
    “I told you I gotta good scald on some chicken.” Cayla took down a plate from the cabinet. There were pots warming on the stove. She picked up a spoon and started to fill the plate.
    Will sat down at the table.
    She asked, “You hear that cop’s not doing good?”
    Will didn’t answer.
    “Got an infection or something. Went into septic shock.”
    Will tried to keep her talking. “What’s that mean?”
    “Means he’s got blood poisoning.” She took her cigarette from the ashtray as she placed the heaping plate of food in front of Will. Fried chicken, green beans, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes and gravy, and two biscuits perilously balanced on top.
    She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. “Sepsis happens a lot with surgeries. They got all those tubes going in and out of them. Bacteria gets into the bloodstream. The heart can’t take it. Poison floods through the body, shuts it all down.”
    He noticed her grammar had suddenly improved. Cayla Martin seemed to have an accent for every occasion. “Sounds bad.”
    She took another long drag before stubbing out the cigarette. “Yeah, it can be. You want that beer now?”
    Will nodded. “Is he going to make it?”
    “The cop?” She was at the refrigerator. She looked back over her shoulder. Underneath all the makeup, Cayla Martin wasn’t unattractive. She seemed to have that weird quality that made otherwise smart men do stupid things. “He might make it. He’s young. Pretty strong. Why do you care?”
    Will shrugged as he picked up his fork. “I don’t.”
    The saloon doors opened. Tony eyed them suspiciously. His jealousy was like a lighthouse beacon scanning the room.
    Cayla gave him a nasty look. “I thought you were watching the game.”
    “I bet you did.” Tony walked into the kitchen with his hands clenched. He told Will, “I heard you were up there today. In the ICU.”
    Will took a big bite of peas. The bacon grease and salt caressed his taste buds.
    Tony asked, “She recognize you?”
    Will glanced at Cayla.
    “It’s all right.” She popped open the beer and put the can in front of Will. “He tells me everything whether I wanna hear it or not.”
    “The cop,” Tony pushed. He was just as changeable as his stepsister. Suddenly, he was sounding less like a nuisance and more like a criminal.
    Will let some time pass before answering. “What about the cop?”
    “She recognize you?”
    “No.” Will shoveled another mound of peas into his mouth. And because there was some space left in his cheeks, he crammed in half a biscuit to help soak up the grease.
    Tony pulled back a chair from the table. He sat down a few feet away, arms crossed, legs spread. His injuries were more pronounced in the harsh kitchen light. The gash on his face would leave a bad scar.
    Tony said, “That was smart thinking, Bud. Make sure she don’t recognize you. Make sure we don’t gotta problem.”
    Will struggled to swallow. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a problem.”
    Cayla laughed. Just as quickly, her expression turned dark. “What are you doing down